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"I know one man who will never give up."
She looked at him questioningly. "Who?"
"My son, Dirk."
Hala rose and Iimped over to the window and stared vacantly at the outside fiberboard that hid her view of the sea. "You must be very proud of him. He's a brave and resourceful man, but only human. He'll never see through the deception-" She paused suddenly and peered down through a tiny crack that showed a brief span of water. "There's something drifting past the ship."
The Senator came over and stood beside her. He could just make out several white objects against the blue of the sea. "Ice," he said, stunned. "That explains the cold. We must be heading into the Antarctic."
Hala sagged against him and buried her face in his chest. "We'll never be rescued now," she murmured in helpless resignation. "No one will think to look for us there."
No one knew the Sounder could drive so hard. Her decks trembled with the straining throb of her engines and the hull shuddered as it pounded into the swells.
Launched at a shipyard in Boston during the summer of 1961, she had spent almost three decades chartering out to oceanographic schools for deep-water research projects in every sea of the world. After her purchase by NUMA in 1990, she had been completely overhauled and refitted. Her new 4,000-horsepower diesel engine was designed to push her at a maximum of fourteen knots, but Stewart and his engineers somehow coaxed seventeen out of her.
The Sounder was the only ship on the trail of the Lady Flamborough, and she stood as much chance of closing the gap as a basset hound after a leopard. Warships of the Argentine Navy and British naval units stationed in the Falkjand Islands might have intercepted the fleeing cruise ship, but they were not alerted.
After Pitts coded message to Admiral Sandecker announcing the astonishing discovery of the General Bravo instead of the Lady Flamborough, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the White House intelligence chiefs strongly advised the President to order a tight security lid on the revelation until U.S. Special Operations Forces could reach the area and coordinate a rescue.
So the old Sounder surged through the sea, alone and without any high official authority, her crew of seamen d scientists caught up in the mad excitement of the chase.
Pitt and Giordino sat in the ship's dining room, studying a chart of the extreme South Atlantic Ocean that Gunn had laid out on the table and pinned down with coffee cups.
"You're convinced they headed south?" Gunn said to Pitt.
"A U-turn to the north would have put the liner back in the search grid," explained Pitt. "And there's no way they would have swung west toward the coastline of Argentina."
"They might have made a run for the open sea."
"With a three-day lead they could be halfway to Africa by now," added Giordino.
"Too risky," said Pitt. "Whoever is running the show doesn't lack for gray matter. Turning east across the ocean would have laid the ship open to exposure by search aircraft and any passing vessels. No, his only option to avoid undue suspicion was to continue on the General Bravo's advertised course to San Pablo on Tierra del Fuego."
"But the port authorities would have blown the whistle when the container ship was overdue," insisted Giordino.
"Don't underestimate this guy. What do you want to bet he signaled the San Pablo Harbor Master and said the General Bravo was running late due to engine breakdown?"
"A neat touch," agreed Giordino. "He could easily gain another forty-eight hours."
"Okay," said Gunn. "What's left? Where does he go? There are a thousand uninhabited islands he could get lost in around the Straits of Magellan."
"Or ' Giordino hung on the "or7-"he might sail to the Antarctic, where he figures no one will search."
"We're all talking in the present tense," said Pitt. "for all we know, he's already moored in some deserted cove."
"We're on to his tricks now," said Gunn. "The Landsat cameras will be activated on its next pass over, and the Lady Flamborough, alias General Bravo, will be revealed in all her glory. "
Giordino looked at Pitt for comment, but his old friend was staring off into space. He had picked up on Pitts habit of tuning out and knew the signs all too well.
Pitt was no longer on the Sounder, he was on the bridge of the Lady Flamborough, attempting to get inside the head of his adversary. It wasn't an easy chore. The man who ramrodded the hijacking had to be the shrewdest customer Pitt had ever come up against.
"He's aware of that," Pitt said finally.
"Aware of what?" Gunn asked curiously.
"The fact he can be detected by satellite photographs."
"Then he knows he can run, but he can't hide."
